Jane Baker: Written In The Stars
by LadyAccidentProne
Summary: Sophie Attlee is just a normal student of London,wanting to get back at her professor. So she writes a story that leads to another world where animals talk, there are endless lines of royalties, a Great Lion is wiser than anyone and a simple girl is destined for unimaginable things. Once the pencil touches the page, Sophie's Jane Baker embarks on her journey and real magic is loose


The weather was not being kind today. The wind was slapping against the windows so forcefully that one almost busted open. The drops of the rain were large and continuous that it was almost hard to see outside. The only figures that could be made out by a clear vision were leaves flying around after having been separated from the branches and plants where they belong. London always had a bad weather.

To add up to the gloomy atmosphere, the tragedy of Shakespeare's most famous characters' love story was being shown through a projector and a white screen in the dark classroom. Captivated were all the girls; their eyes almost filling up with tears as they watched in desperation for Romeo and Juliet. A few of the boys managed to be engrossed with the film after being determined to just sleep it away. The others did anyway, heads bowed and arms dangling either on their sides or on the edge of the table. Their professor was to busy to shake the living days out of them since he was too absorbed with the story as well.

There was a student who neither slept nor paid attention even just the slightest bit. She sat at the back of the class, droning out from all the sounds around her as she glided her pencil across the page. She sketched from here and there, her mind furiously attacking every angle with the use of her pencil. As she worked on her drawing, the image of it was clear in her mind. It was alive and moving. The waves were crashing and the seagulls were flying over the water. The sky was illuminating with the mixed colors of blue, yellow and orange. The sun was setting. The sand was inviting to walk on; to feel its warm and tingly feeling beneath your feet. The scene was as beautiful as it gets.

The only light coming from the film seemed to get brighter as the student could process. Her sketch got more visible to her focused eyes. Another light was shed and she stayed completely concentrated.

Professor Wilson stood up from his seat as his students started to gather their things. That was always how it went. There is a need to immediately set foot out of class. The scraping of the chairs and the turning on of the lights awakened those who were asleep. They looked around, confused for a moment and then feeling happy that the class has ended and those who slept throughout the film felt cool, easily thinking that they are rebellions. The girls didn't seem to be amused by that since they had lining, messy marks etched on the skin of their faces, dried saliva and the fact that some of them had snored loudly enough to disturb the others.

"I want a written essay by tomorrow," called out Professor Wilson. "All of them already on my desk before I enter the room."

Some groaned and some headed straightforward to the door. Few had cared to say farewell to their teacher after wiping at their red, puffy eyes from all the crying they did. Romeo and Juliet wasn't exactly a kind story to its readers and viewers, especially with the way of how it ended.

When the class seemed empty of students, Professor Wilson stacked a pile of projects on his table to be checked. It was then that he heard the familiar sound of a pencil being skimmed against a paper. He looked ahead, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. One of the seats in the back was still occupied.

"Miss Attlee," he called. "Class is dismissed."

She didn't miss a beat as she worked her pencil. She didn't hear him. Professor Wilson sighed and rounded up his table. A thunder rumbled as he walked through the row of seats. It slightly annoyed and surprised him at the same time as to how the girls continued to draw. Did she have any earphones plugged? No, he could see that. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, showing her ears.

He stopped in front of her. She still didn't notice his towering figure as he looked down upon her. Her drawing was upside down but Professor Wilson could make out the waves of the sea. He rolled his eyes and knocked his knuckles on the wood of her desk. She didn't jump, nor even looked startled when she finally glanced up at him slowly.

"Class is dismissed, Sophie," he said, his hands clasped in front of him. "In case you didn't notice."

She looked around, dazed as she released her dull pencil. She blinked a few time, looking like as if she's never seen a classroom before. Professor Wilson had to roll his eyes at that.

Sophie Attlee didn't wait anymore to be reminded again. She stood up immediately, pushing her chair back and bending down to retrieve her satchel on the floor. She hadn't touched a book since the Literature class started. She politely placed her chair back to her desk and then walked past Professor Wilson.

"An essay about Romeo and Juliet due tomorrow," he said.

She continued to walk. Sophie was expecting that anyway since the man always loved to see his students' throbbing hands and disheveled hair everyday.

"Miss Attlee," he called again and then she stopped. "I read your literary project yesterday."

He was also a critic of works.

Sophie turned slightly so she was facing him sideways. She saw how a frown crept up to his lips. A thunder rumbled again. All classes should have been suspended by now.

"It was far from your literary works before, Sophie. By far, it doesn't mean that you advanced or improves. What has happened?"

Sophie didn't speak but only shrugged as her answer. She knew that it was one of the manners Professor Wilson didn't like. He despised it; never liked the answer '_I don't know'. _Sophie could care less if she had to admit it.

"I know that your mother went to America," trailed off the man. "And I know you're sad and angry. I don't want you including your studies in that issue, Sophie."

"And?"

Professor Wilson was surprised by her answer. "You have a gift in writing and I don't want you wasting that. I will give you another chance."

Sophie's hand curled on the strap of her bag. She didn't _want_ another chance.

"You're my best student here and I know you're responsible enough so I'm going to give you a week to write a new story. If you don't pass it by Friday, I will fail you for the whole semester, considering you've also shown me some rude attitude but I can let you off the hook for that if you take this opportunity."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Sophie knew she could handle a failure. It even felt like it was actually nothing to her. It'll be her first one but if she ever did lose interest in writing a new story, she wouldn't really mind a failure.

"What was wrong with my literary work?" she asked him.

"It lacks everything that you have showed off in your previous several works. It's completely _empty_, if such a word could fit your story."

Somehow, she still felt intimidated by him with the way of how he speaks so lowly about his students' efforts and to never even acknowledge them after giving off their papers. Sophie never liked him in the first place, even when her works were not _empty_ to him.

"I'll have it done before you know it, professor," she spoke, determined.

"Then be sure of it," he said, coolly.

She almost glared at him but she willed herself to walk away, both of her hands now gripping the strap of her satchel to keep her from attacking her teacher. That would be unwise. As she neared the doorway, she heard the clicking of his shoes and then he called her name again. Sophie groaned inwardly to herself and managed to look at her professor's taunting face.

"Don't forget these," he said, indicating to the objects he's holding.

It was her pencil and her drawing. She stared at it, annoyed by the fact that Professor Wilson had touched them. It seems almost like a horrific thing. Sophie walked back towards him and snatched her belongings from his hand. When she looked back at him, he was smiling as if to push her over to the edge. He was testing her and Sophie wanted nothing more than to wipe that expression off his face with a mop.

Sophie didn't say another word. She stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her rather loudly. The corridor was empty; everyone had gone off to their classes. She sighed and tucked a stray of her hair behind her ear. She began to walk towards the stairs in silence. She could still hear the pattering of the rain outside and the grumbling sound from the sky.

"London," she muttered.

Instead of going up to get to her next class, she sat down on the steps. She stared at the lockers in front of her for a moment. The sky produced another uncomforting sound and Sophie shook her head before looking down at the paper in her hands. Her drawing wasn't a finished product yet. It wasn't only the sea, sun, sky, birds, waves and sand. In fact, it wasn't the focus of her sketch. It was still missing something.

She could see it in her mind. She could see the blue cloth whipping with the wind, the small flower dangling gracefully and the invisible atmosphere scouring around. Sophie couldn't describe it. It was beyond words. She closed here yes, taking in some moment for a while. She didn't bother to care about the ticking of the clock or her absence in her next period. She let out a deep breath before her eyes opened again.

Her notebook where she usually jots down her notes was in her satchel and without a second thought, she grabbed it. She picked her pencil up on the space beside her where she had laid it. She opened her notebook and took another look at her work. Applying moisture on her lips, she tucked it between the pages and flipped to an empty one. As the tip of her dull pencil touched the paper, she thought of one thing.

_I'm going to skip gym._


End file.
